DOA 3: The REAL story
by Seyi
Summary: A story based on the DOA 3 game and tournament. Pairings, friendships and fueds among the DOA characters are formed and played out to the fullest. Please, R&R. READ! REVIEW! PRETTY PLEASE! WHERE ARE YOU !
1. Tina Armstrong

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Don't sue.  
  
Rating: PG-13 now for language. Rating will increase for other stuff later on- I'll keep you posted.  
  
"MOVE IT, YOU WENCHES! GET THOSE LEGS UP HIGHER! I SAID HIGHER! ARE YOU ALL DEAF?"  
  
Tina Armstrong clenched her tongue in between her teeth, silently vowing not to say a word. Instead, she kicked her legs up higher as instructed, her pretty face narrowing into an expression of dawning fury. She moved quickly, shimmying to the tune of an intensifying salsa beat, the wooden floor of the stage slick under her bare toes, as the voice booming over her continued to rail.  
  
"You all call yourselves PROFESSIONALS?!!! That's BULLSHIT!! PURE BULLSHIT!!"  
  
Tina leaped blindly up into the air, knowing from experience another dancer would catch her. Sure enough, she felt a pair of large, warm hands at her waist, dipping her towards the floor. A low voice spoke into her ear. "Don't mind him," her partner whispered. "He's like that with all the dancers."  
  
Tina rolled her eyes, though she was grateful that he even took notice of her plight. How she got to be in this mess in the first place, she had no idea.  
  
After the last Dead or Alive tournament, which she had lost, though she made a great deal of money- Tina had debuted her modeling career, and pursued an acting career with even greater zest. Ignoring her father's obvious disapproval, she'd participated in several stage shows and gone to various stage and film auditions, which had led to her being cast as co- star in Rave, a small off-Broadway musical production.  
  
Although a little wary of the amount of song and dance that would have to take place- she really was more of a 'strut n' show' type of gal- she was excited about the part, which she thought might be her ticket to jump- starting her acting career.  
  
Tina's bubble burst the day she was exposed to the REAL world of acting as a virtual nobody. Her choreographer, Julius, was a short, ugly man with thick glasses, a harsh voice and an even nastier attitude, his preferred method of treatment harassing his singers and dancers verbally till he got what he wanted. And he did it well.  
  
Tina was snapped back to attention when Julius stepped directly in front of where she was dancing, beginning to scream directly in her face. "You're TRASH, bitch! FREAKIN' country TEXAS TRASH!! WHAT the hell do you think THAT was? I may be half blind, and you may be stupid as a fence post, but we BOTH know that isn't a plie!"  
  
"GRRRR!" Tina gritted her teeth, growling loudly as she shook her hair loose from its rubber band, spraying Julius directly in the face with droplets of sweat in the process. She wanted to mouth off, but couldn't- that would get her fired for sure. Hoping he'd leave her alone and move on to another victim, she increased her efforts, snarling. Her hostility didn't daunt him one bit, however. He pushed his oily face closer to hers, continuing his brigade.  
  
"YOU SUCK, tramp! Apparently the only thing you've got going for you are those FAKE-ASS bowling balls on your chest...blondie!"  
  
AARRRRGGGHHH! Tina wanted to scream, but held her tongue, putting her anger into her steps instead. Her feet beat out a rapid tattoo on the stage; she was drenched in sweat, her hair wild and tangled. Julius continued, his fetid breath blowing all over her face.  
  
"BETTER, but SURE AS HELL not good enough. How'd you even GET in this show, bitch? WHO'D YOU FUCK?"  
  
Oh, HELL no. THAT was the last straw. Spinning around, Tina lifted one leg and slammed one sneaker-clad foot under the choreographer's double chin, watching in satisfaction as he crashed to the ground, clutching his jaw in pain.  
  
"I quit!" Grabbing her bag and ignoring the open-mouthed stares from the rest of the dancers, she headed for the door, leaving Julius writhing on the floor, yelling after her: "You'll NEVER get another job in THIS town! I'm gonna sue you for all you're worth..."  
  
"PRICK!"  
  
"BITCH!"  
  
Tina was already halfway down the street.  
  
When she arrived at her apartment, Tina slammed down her bag, picking up the mail and heading for her bedroom so she could strip and take a shower, then try and find a new gig somewhere. She squeezed her eyes together tightly, feeling a migraine coming on.  
  
After grabbing two Advils and downing them without water, she stripped off her sweaty top and sweats, grimacing at the smell. She tossed them into the trash, determined NEVER to wear sweats again- she hated the feel of cheap cotton against her skin.  
  
"From now on, I'll wear only velour suits," she muttered, making a mental note to buy some the next time she was in the city. J-Lo, maybe. The chick was extremely trashy- but she had some nice clothes.  
  
After standing under a hot, steamy steam of water and jasmine-scented soap for nearly half an hour, she was hustled out by the sound of her phone ringing. Tightening her towel, she snatched up the receiver. "Hello?"  
  
"Tina, honey? Is that you?"  
  
"Hi, dad." Tina sighed- she really didn't want to speak to him right then. "Um, I kind of just got out of the shower, so can I just call you..."  
  
"Tina, sugar!" Bass' voice was WAY to jovial. "How's the acting thing going on  
  
Broadly?"  
  
"That's Broadway, dad," she rolled her eyes, not bothering to explain that the show was an OFF Broadway show. "And things have gone to shit. I got fired."  
  
"Don't curse. It's not ladylike." Bass then realized what his daughter had said. "What? You got fired? Why?"  
  
"Don't even ask me." Tina sunk down into a chair, ignoring the puddle from her damp skin now staining the upholstery.  
  
Bass made a sound that was probably supposed to be sympathetic, but it came out just a little better sounding than a hoot. Tina knew he was thrilled- her father hated her acting and modeling.  
  
"Well, honey, I'm sorry, but other opportunities will come, and you know what? Vince McMahon just offered me a new deal- I have to create a new WWE tag team! Wouldn't it be awesome if you and I did it? We'd be a father- daughter tag team again! A comeback tag team, really- just think of all the ticket sales! We could wear all black leather and..."  
  
"Daaaaad," Tina's voice grew irritated. "Let's not go down that road again, 'kay? I DON"T want to wrestle!"  
  
"But, honey..."  
  
"No!" Tina's voice grew stubborn. "Dad, I want to be famous, but I want to make my own name, okay? I don't want to get known as Bass Armstrong's kid. I want to get there because I earned it myself." A small smile crept over her face, as a thought formulated in her head. Her voice sweetened. "In fact..." her smile grew wider..."I think I'll enter this year's DOA tournament- they invited me, you know."  
  
"Over my dead body!" Bass roared.  
  
"Bye, Daddy." Tina hung up, then headed for her bedroom. She had a ticket to buy, luggage to pack, and some numbers to call. 


	2. Zack and Brad

"Oh, HELL no," Zack muttered. He stared at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand, incredulous. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, and his eyes glazed over slightly.  
  
"Dear Sir or Madam," the letter ran,  
  
"It is in the interests of our hotel that we inform you that your form of payment for the following:  
  
Billiards room rental and party services  
  
Room service  
  
Spa treatments  
  
Adult entertainment  
  
Adult videos  
  
Playstation system room rentals  
  
Fifteen playstation games  
  
has been rejected by Chase Banking and checking services. Your total amounts to $5,500.87 in U.S. dollars, which is your requested currency payment, is currently pending on your account.  
  
As a valued patron of our institution, we are certain you will cooperate with us and provide another form of payment before we are forced by hotel policy to report you to the US credit agency.  
  
Thank you very much.  
  
Tokyo Hilton."  
  
Zack sank down on his haunches, disbelieving. "How could my checks have bounced?" he muttered. Finally, after checking his accounts, which were in pathetic order, he saw that they were right.  
  
"Shit," he muttered. He had about $6,000 from billiards winnings, which would cover his expenses at the hotel, and DOATEC would pay his ticket home, but he'd arrive there with less money than he'd brought to Tokyo.  
  
"So much for my Vegas vacation." Zack stretched out on his stomach, depressed. "Unless..." he sat up, as a thought occurred to him. He'd been invited back to DOATEC for a third tournament, which he didn't even bother to RSVP- he had no motive for entering the competitions, other than making some easy cash- and reveling in attention of adoring fans- adoring FEMALE fans especially.  
  
He reached for his cell phone, scrolling through the stored phone numbers and selecting one. "Douglas Incorporated, can I help you?" a smooth voice answered in Japanese.  
  
"Hi," Zack said. "Look, I've got a bit of a problem..."  
  
Two hours later, Zack headed for the hotel's wet bar. He needed a drink- and if he could get some, a bit of nookie. Unfortunately, however, when he reached the bar, he saw that it was deserted, save for a short, muscular Asian man sitting on one of the stools, nursing a drink.  
  
Zack cursed silently. How much of a loser WAS he, drinking in the middle of the morning? Even the BARTENDER was gone. Zack sauntered up to the bar, perching on the barstool next to the man, who was sipping a shot of what looked like tequila.  
  
"Where the hell is the bartender?" Zack asked in Japanese, pleased that he could at least say that much. His textbook Japanese had improved in quantity, if not in quality, since the DOA's second tournament. It was very useful to be able to say phrases other than "it's bitchin'," or "I'm gonna kick your butt," which were the first sentences he'd mastered during his first tournament.  
  
The man fixed his eyes on Zack, brushing a lock of obviously dyed silver- tinted, lavender hair out of his eyes. "I don't speak Japanese," he said in halting English.  
  
"Where are you from?"  
  
"China. I'm here for DOA competition." At the mention of that, Zack groaned, slamming his head against the table.  
  
"Don't even mention that damned thing to me. I was in the last tournament, and have to enter this one, 'cause I need some more cash. You don't know how pissed off I am."  
  
"Americans terrible when spending money." The guy was clearly unsympathetic. "I am here to find Genra. You hear of him?"  
  
"No. Genra, you said? Sounds like a REALLY bad cartoon villain. I'm just in it for the cash. I plan to go to Vegas." Zack could have started an argument with the man about his opinions on American spending, but other matters were more pressing. "Where the HELL is the bartender?- Oh, I'm Zack, by the way."  
  
My name is Brad. Brad Wong." he replied. "Bartender is gone- went for food. You want drink?"  
  
"Yeah, but how am I supposed to get one when the frickin' bartender went....hey, what are you doing?" While he was talking, Brad had leapt lightly to the inside of the bar, landing soundlessly on his feet, like a cat.  
  
"You want drink, yes?"  
  
"Want? I NEED one. But...man, you'll get us both thrown out! I really don't need that right now."  
  
"Do not worry. I know bartender. Very good man." While he had been talking, Brad had also been preparing a drink. "Cheers."  
  
Zack took the drink from his hand, sniffing it suspiciously. "What is it?"  
  
"Chinese cocktail."  
  
"What's in it?"  
  
"Chinese rice liquor, Jamaica rum, other things."  
  
Zack took a cautious sip. "If I die I'm suing your ass."  
  
Brad just grinned. "You like?"  
  
Zack leaned back on his stool, first from the intense alcoholic flavor filling his mouth, then from pleasure, licking his upper lip. He closed his eyes as tendrils of warmth began to seep through his body. "Oh, that is GOOOOOOD."  
  
Half an hour later, they were seated on the INSIDE of the bar this time, slumped against the low wood wall. Zack was on his fourth drink; Brad was on his sixth. Time passed quickly.  
  
Twenty minutes later, both men called a cab and split the cost- they were too wasted to drive- grabbed their bags after Zack paid his bill and checked out, then headed for the DOA Tokyo Headquarters. 


	3. Christie, Donavan and a hint of Helena

Disclaimer: Yeah, I'm the creator of DOA 3. And if you believe me, I can get you a date with Kasumi. I don't OWN them, OKAY??  
  
Rating: Let's up it to an "R-ish" now, people- who knows where my mind will go in this chapter. You have been warned.  
  
DOATEC's Tokyo headquarters, shrouded in the darkness of an early dusk, was not evident to many who passed by. Nestled in the heart of Japan's immense mount Fiji, the headquarters were nearly impossible to find after the sun had set. Dark, private, and isolated, it was a place where competitors were cut off entirely from the outside world during the duration of their tournaments.  
  
The grounds spanned over three hundred acres, consisting of a men's dorm, a women's dorm, gymnasium, martial arts training center, kitchen, mess hall, and a small DOATEC-run department store that carried everything from cheap plastic souvenirs to car batteries.  
  
Quaint trails lined with exotic, twisted trees, and flowers filling the air with a heavy, spicy-sweet scent intertwined and connected round the various buildings. Small, stagnant pools of clear spring water appeared here and there, and small, plant-filled gardens, looking almost accidental in their locations, appeared in surprising places. DOATEC was beautiful, and peaceful- yet had a sinister air about it.  
  
The entire camp had been refurnished, cleaned and fumigated, awaiting the week's competitors, and was dark. The only light that shone through the black velvet of the night was that in the window of a small condo-like domicile at the far west side of the grounds. It was small, and sparsely but comfortably furnished, lit brightly by many oil lamps.  
  
It was in the back bedroom of this structure that Donavan, head of DOATEC, was standing, dressed in a thick chenille robe that covered his body from chin to knees. The man was tall, though of a slender build, and handsome in a cold, hawkish way, all the more enhanced by a slightly hooked nose and high, thespian cheekbones. He had thick, shoulder-length black hair that swept from a dramatic widow's peak down to his shoulders, and eyes just as dark. Although his figure was not impressively muscular, a definite aura of power, nearly terrifying in its intensity, radiated off of his person.  
  
He looked down onto the bed, where the figure of a tall, slim woman was outlined clearly underneath a thin comforter. "Christie?" She didn't move.  
  
"Christina." He spoke her full name this time, and she stirred without waking, bringing into view a slightly rounded, delicate face, and a head full of short, razor-layered platinum hair. She opened her eyes slightly, and shut them again.  
  
Donavan chuckled low in his throat, moving from the bedside. In one smooth, swift motion, he ripped the comforter clean off the bed, leaving her exposed to the chilly night air. As expected, she awoke, sitting up, giving him a murderous look. "Why the FUCK did you just do that?" she asked in a menacing whisper, flashing him a look that would probably wither a man twice as large.  
  
"You didn't wake up when I called you." Donavan moved closer to the bed, in an effort to better view her nude body, now completely exposed. She was toned, and very slender, her body completely hairless, due to extensive weekly beauty treatments. She had long arms and legs lined with smooth, corded muscles. Her breasts, which barely even moved when she'd jerked to a sitting position, were surprisingly large for one so slender. Full, firm, and tipped with large, pale nipples, they began to quiver as she shook with indignation. She crossed her arms over chest and folded her legs beneath her.  
  
"I'm freezing."  
  
Donavan only smirked, focusing on her nipples, which had already began to harden, more from his scrutiny than the cold air. "I can see that." He moved towards her, ignoring her efforts to snatch the blanket from his arm. He tossed it on the floor and moved towards the bed, unfastening his robe and taking hold of one breast as he did so.  
  
"You look particularly lovely today, my sweet," he said sarcastically, in an overly dramatic tone. Stretching his, long, lean frame as a cat would, he dropped on the bed beside her, then ran his fingers up her thigh, admiring how tan they looked against the silky whiteness of her skin, using his other hand to play idly with her nipples.  
  
"You fool." Christie was still clearly furious, but her eyes, glued to his body, told a different story. "Get your hands off me."  
  
Donovan chuckled again, his icy fingers moving towards her inner thighs, gently prying them open. "That's not what you said earlier." He took his bathrobe sash, and twisting it into a point, brushed it lightly, insistently, between her splayed legs. She began to squirm, struggling to maintain her angry expression, fighting any type of pleasure, until he replaced the bathrobe sash with two plunging fingers. She let out a low, guttural groan, and began to move.  
  
It was nearly fifteen minutes later before either of them could speak. Donavan rolled off of her, and reaching for an ever-present pack off cigars under his bed, lit one up. Christie wrinkled her nose, but said nothing. She ran her fingers through her now-mussed hair, and sat up, enjoying his casual nakedness.  
  
"I have a job for you." Donavan's voice was low and serious.  
  
"What?" Christie's brows furrowed together. "You said you wanted me here for..."  
  
"Companionship? Friendship?" Donavan threw back his head and laughed, a derisive, mocking laugh. "Is THAT why you think you're here? Because I...LIKE you?" He laughed again. "Christie, love, for a trained assassin, you are as naïve as ever." He wiped a tear from his eye, reached for his pants, and pulled them on. "I called you because I need you to do a job for me."  
  
Christie's eyes fairly blazed. "You motherfu-"  
  
Donavan put his hand on her mouth. "Shut up, woman, your melodramatics tire me. I'm your client, woman, not your BOYfriend." He said the last word in a high, mocking tone.  
  
"Then why did you-"  
  
"Fuck you? Because, my dear, you so obviously needed sex. And we have quite a history together, true? I couldn't send you out on the field, horny as you were." He took a puff of his cigar.  
  
A look of hurt disbelief quickly flashed across the woman's face, then disappeared as her cold-blooded assassin's expression steeled her face and eyes. She drawing herself up to full height where she sat, she regarded her client with a cold, dignified expression. "What do you want me to do?"  
  
Donavan nodded his approval, then pulled a small snapshot out of the bedside table. "Do you know who this woman is?"  
  
Christie looked at the picture and nodded. "Isn't she an English opera singer?"  
  
"Yes," Donavan replied. "Her name is Helena. She is Douglas' illegitimate daughter by his mistress, and she has entered this year's competition, doubtless to avenge her mother's death." He gave Christie a sideways look.  
  
"The bullet was meant for HER," Christie muttered, looking down. "A mistake due to lack of experience."  
  
"Hmm," Donavan didn't sound convinced. "Make sure no 'lack of experience' occurs this time. I want to you to watch her. Shadow her. I am concerned for my own safety, and though I have bodyguards, I would like to have you as backup. If she makes any moves, terminate her.  
  
"You will be entering the DOA competition this week undercover as one of the competitors, and you are Helena's roommate. I assume you are skilled in some form of the martial arts?"  
  
She shot him a competuous look.  
  
"Okay, stupid question," he said, unabashed. "Just see to it that she does nothing...questionable."  
  
Christie nodded and rose from the bed, her back to Donavan. He reached out, caressing her smooth, firm buttocks with both hands. "And take care," he said, in a voice nearly as caressing as his fingers. "There are many who loved Douglas in this competition. They wish to avenge his death."  
  
Christie turned around slowly, her crotch now at Donavan's face level. At the sight of that smooth, pale, hairless skin, marked only by a rosy slash that hinted at her inner parts, he leaned forward, to press his lips to that spot. Suddenly, he felt Christie's nails grazing his solar plexus.  
  
"Don't you...EVER touch me again." Her voice was low, but harsh, and her eyes blazed, like burning violets. Donavan released her, that damned smirk on his face again. "Fine," he said, amusement peppering his tone. He reached into his pants pocket, pulled out an enormous wad of bills, and threw them at her feet.  
  
"Get dressed," he sneered, his voice matching hers in coldness, "and get out."  
  
Christie took the money, dressed silently, and left for the women's dorms to await Helena's arrival. Somehow her encounter with Donavan had left her feeling filthier than she'd ever been when covered with another's blood.  
  
Like? Dislike? Please Review. Constructive crit, I like; flames amuse me. Oh yeah, and don't worry Hitomi /Ayene /Habrusa /Kasumi/ Bayman/ Leon fans- they will be appearing in coming chapters. I'll update soon. 


	4. Hitomi, Bayman, Leon and Jann Lee

Disclaimer: I don't have time for this. Read the other one.  
  
Rating: Back to PG-13, people- my mind is clean for the week.  
  
The Tokyo International Airport was swarming with activity, as usual. Tourists and natives alike milled around in droves, carrying luggage, meeting relatives, scattering both near and far, throughout the immense building.  
  
Nearly a speck in all the din, lost in all the noise, stood a man and a young woman, standing in a tight embrace, cheeks pressed together, as if oblivious to the noise and confusion surrounding them, so intent on their farewell that people around them paused to look.  
  
They were an unusual pair. The man was tall, hulking, and muscular, with light, light hair, brows, and lashes covering piercing blue eyes. His face was lined with age and experience, his blonde hair streaked with silvery strands.  
  
The girl however, was very young, and almost diminutive in comparison, barely reaching his shoulder. She had thick, sun-streaked brown hair that reached her shoulder blades, delicate, slightly Asian features, and light, gray-blue eyes, a washed-out color in comparison with the brilliance of the older man's eyes. She pulled away from him, and listened as he began to speak.  
  
"Hitomi," the man smiled tenderly, pushing a lock of hair out of her face, speaking German in a thick, husky voice. "I...I am so proud of you. You've grown."  
  
The girl smiled, rolled her eyes upward slightly, and answered him in the same language. "I know, Dad. You didn't have to follow me all the way to Tokyo, though."  
  
The man smiled slightly. "Okay. So I went a BIT overboard there."  
  
"Mmm-hmm. AND you pack for me, call the DOATEC headquarters to be personally introduced to the resident woman's chaperone, and have masses said on my behalf before leaving Germany."  
  
The "masses" bit was what finally made the man crack a smile. "What, do you think I'd send my only daughter, who is ONLY IN HIGH SCHOOL, for that matter, fly halfway across the world and enter in a tournament called, of all things, "Dead or Alive," without offering up prayers for her safety?" He gave her a hug. "Godspeed, Hitomi. And never forget what I've taught you. I must go now- my plane leaves in a half hour."  
  
"Goodbye, Dad." she kissed him on the cheek, and watched as he disappeared into the crowd.  
  
Hitomi turned around again, hoisting her large Adidas duffel bag to her shoulder and picking up a light rolling suitcase with the other- they were her only pieces of luggage. She pulled her DOATEC inetiary out of her back jeans pocket, using her chin to hold it open. "Where to go, where to go...?" she muttered. It supposedly held a shuttle location to take her to Mount Fuji, where DOATEC headquarters were. Sticking the wrinkled pamphlet between her teeth, she headed for terminal five, running all the way. She only had five minutes before the shuttle left.  
  
Dashing out the automatic doors, she skidded slightly on the pavement outdoors, looking around frantically- and then she saw it. A small, dark blue van with shaded windows was pulling out of the parking lot.  
  
"Wait! Please!" Hitomi ran across the lot, dragging her case behind her, duffel bag banging against her legs. She reached the van as it was pulling out, banging her fists against the door. The driver slammed on his brakes.  
  
"I'm going to the DOA competition!" yelled Hitomi. "Please let me in!"  
  
The man took one look at her windblown hair, held up with butterfly clips, her Minnie Mouse baby tee, her battered Nikes, and her low-slung Gap jeans, then laughed. "YOU?" He attempted to pull out again.  
  
"Oh, NO he didn't," muttered Hitomi, justifiably pissed. She yanked the door open- luckily it was unlocked- and stuck her elbow in it to prevent any undo door slamming. Yanking her thin, laminated DOATEC i.d. from her back pocket, she waved it in his face.  
  
Muttering something intelligible in Japanese, he slammed on the brakes, put the van in park, and huffed his way out, grabbing her luggage and tossing it haphazardly in the back. In the meantime, Hitomi climbed in and plopped down on a seat, narrowly missing the hand of a young woman already seated there.  
  
"Oh my God! I am SO sorry," she apologized profusely in Japanese. "I'm Hitomi, by the way."  
  
The woman looked up, giving her an icy look, before tucking one strand of bleached, dyed lavender hair behind one ear and giving Hitomi a sardonic smile.  
  
"No harm done." She gave Hitomi the once-over, making her feel even more insecure over her appearance- the woman, obviously a few years older, was wearing a pair of tailored black pants with a matching jacket.  
  
"Are you Japanese?" she asked.  
  
Hitomi blinked in surprise. So much for a polite introduction. "Well, half, actually. My mother is, but my father-"  
  
"You didn't look it." The woman turned her head to look out the window, signaling the end of the conversation.  
  
"Well, excuuuuuussse me," Hitomi said under her breath. She turned around to face the back, where two huge, hulky men were talking low in rough, guttural voices. Russian, she guessed.  
  
Behind them, an even younger man with short, spiky black hair was stretched out on the seat with his legs wide open, dressed in jeans, a black sweater, and red Addias sneakers- he looked to be around her age, or a couple of years older. He was munching on a candy bar coming from a wrapper printed with Chinese characters. "Hello," she said when she heard a pause in conversation. "I'm Hitomi."  
  
The two Russian men grunted acknowledgement of her statement. "Call me Bayman," said the older, huskier guy, who would have been quite handsome, save for a long, thin scar on his left cheek. "Leon," said the younger, in heavily accented Japanese. They then continued their conversation without a beat.  
  
The guy sitting behind them gave her a curious look. "Jann Lee," he said. He looked as though he wanted to say more, but didn't- he looked out the window instead.  
  
"Ooookkkaaay," Hitomi thought, her enthusiasm slightly dampened. She pulled out a Walkman, plugged in her headphones, and turned up the sound. She had a LONG ride ahead of her. 


	5. Reunited

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.  
  
Rating: Back to PG-13, people.  
  
Ein Hayate stepped out of his sleek black Lexus, looking around at the familiar ground of DOATEC. It was here where he'd competed, lost- and was kidnapped, nearly forced to become Donavan's puppet. It was here where he'd lost the full use of his limbs through Donavan's wicked experiments- Project Epsilon, he called it. The quest for a perfect superhuman. And he, Hayate, was here to destroy it- Genra, as he'd heard it called- although at the moment, he didn't feel quite up to the task.  
  
Hayate flexed his legs, wincing at the slight ache in them. Although he'd regained full use of them, they still hurt sometimes, especially when he was sitting for an extended period of time. Walking firm and straight in spite of the pain, he started down the nearest trail, holding his light Kenneth Cole bag in his left hand.  
  
"Yo! Ein!"  
  
Hayate turned abruptly, coming face-to-face with a slightly freakish sight; two men of average height, one black with bright green hair and a matching soul patch, and an Asian guy with shaggy, pale lavender-white hair raked back into a long, skinny braid were both walking rather unsteadily up the hill. He recognized one of the men immediately.  
  
"Zack!" he stopped and held his hand out in greeting. "How are you?" he asked in English.  
  
"Cool, bro. Oh, yeah, this is Brad. I met him at the Hilton, in Tokyo. He's a new competitor this year."  
  
"It is very nice to meet you," Ein nodded in his direction. "I think you may be my roommate." He looked at his room assignment. "Yes, you are. Brad Wong, is that correct? Would you like to come with me?"  
  
Brad nodded and headed after him. Hayate yelled over his shoulder. "Zack, are you coming?"  
  
"Naw, I gotta sign in! Later!"  
  
Hayate and Brad found the men's dorm without trouble and entered their room, pausing only to flip on the light. The small, college-dormitory style bedroom contained two twin beds, a small bathroom with a toilet, sink, and shower, and a large desk with two chairs pulled up to it. Ein sat down on one of the beds, finding the mattress surprisingly soft, although the comforter over it was incredibly thin. He swung his feet up and pulled out his laptop, intending to surf the net for a while.  
  
Brad hung his few items of clothing up on the left side of the sliding-door closet while singing slightly off tune in Chinese, the first words Ein had heard coming out of his mouth. He rolled his eyes slightly. He was going to have to LIVE with this guy for two weeks? Brad then took out a large crystal pitcher and decanter, placing them on the desk with loving, almost tender reverence, and filled up the pitcher with clear, strong Russian vodka that Ein could smell from across the room. "You want?" He asked generously. "Take from here."  
  
Ein shook his head politely. "No thank you."  
  
Brad gave a 'your loss' shrug and headed for his own bed. He threw himself down on his stomach and began to read a Chinese newspaper that had been used to wrap the decanter while in his bag.  
  
Hayate sighed and continued his Internet searching. About fifteen minutes later, he heard a soft rap at the door, abruptly breaking the silence. Getting up on his protesting limbs, he walked to the door- Brad was now on his back, snoring softly- and pulled it open, revealing a beautiful, powerfully built young amber-haired woman, dressed in jeans and a crisp oxford shirt that stretched impressively across her chest. She smiled.  
  
"Kasumi!" Hayate extended his arms, pulling his younger sister into them for barely a second before releasing her. She squeezed his hands, and then walked into the room. "You look well," she said, touching his cheek and looking at his proud, straight posture. "I'm glad."  
  
"I never quite thanked you."  
  
Kasumi opened her mouth, but was cut off abruptly by a loud "ahem!" from the room's left corner. Groaning inwardly, Hayate looked over at Brad, who'd awakened, and was surveying his guest with open curiosity.  
  
"Brad, meet my sister, Kasumi," he said in English, realizing the man didn't understand a word of their Japanese conversation. "Kasumi, Brad Wong." Brad nodded at her, bowing his head slightly, and Kasumi, who spoke no English, gave him a slight smile.  
  
Brad lumbered to his feet, and in a very unsubtle yet tactful manner, retreated to the bathroom to unpack his toiletries. Over his banging around and loud, off-key rendition of "Nine Lives," Kasumi and Hayate continued their conversation.  
  
Hayate sat down on his bed, indicating Brad's for Kasumi, as both chairs in the room were draped with unpacked clothing. "I don't think he'll care."  
  
Instead of sitting, Kasumi began to pick up his clothing, folding and hanging the unpacked articles. "I wasn't sure how much you'd remember of me," she said, referring to the brief amnesia he'd suffered after his experience with DOATEC.  
  
"No, that's all over with, now," he replied. "I don't remember everything that Donavan did to me, though. The physicians think I may be blocking it out for post-traumatic reasons. Physically, I'm much better, as you can see."  
  
"Yes." She smiled again, "I have news for you, though."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Do you..."she paused as a whole range of emotions passed over her face. "Do you remember Ayane?"  
  
"Your little sister?"  
  
"HALF sister," Kasumi corrected. "And yours as well. She is participating in this competition. I did not expect her to look for me." She looked at her feet. "We did not part well."  
  
Hayate didn't say a word- instead, he closed his laptop and listened to her intently. After a breath, she continued.  
  
"i... as you know, I was to be ordained kunoichi leader of the Mugen Tenshin fighting style."  
  
Hayate nodded. "You refused the position to rescue me. I hated you at first, without knowing your reason for doing it. I thought you were such a coward..."  
  
Kasumi cut him off. "Ayane was very much against my leaving as well. She was in training at the time, and felt that I was leaving her for a man I barely knew, and in a way she was right. But...you are family. I could not desert you.  
  
"You saw her last when she was about ten, but...Hayate, she has changed. She was so bitter when I left, so angry...I fear she may want revenge."  
  
"She wouldn't kill you."  
  
"Kill me, no. Humiliate me at this competition? Yes. Turn me in? Yes. I've had to fight off shinobni assasians for the past year. I shouldn't have to fight my own blood." She finished hanging his clothing and sunk down on Brad's bed.  
  
Hayate looked down at his hands, wishing her could offer counsel, but not knowing what to say. He glanced up just in time to see Kasumi pouring herself a tumblerful out of Brad's decanter. "This water isn't very cold," she said, lifting the glass to her lips.  
  
"No, Kasumi, don't! it's..." before Hayate could finish, she'd downed the entire glass in one swig. He leaped up as she grabbed her throat, choking in a most undignified way.  
  
Brad, hearing the silence in the room, chose that moment to reappear, only to see Kasumi, her hands clutching her throat, trying not to gag the alcohol all over the rug. The empty tumbler and the look on Hayate's face told the rest of the story.  
  
Moving as quickly as a cat, he cleared the room and began pounding on her back. Hayate quickly stepped in and took over, as his roommate refilled the liquor glass with water from the bathroom tap. "Is she okay?" Brad asked, concerned.  
  
Hayate asked her if she felt all right, but she still seemed to be in shock, although she attempted to regain her dignity with as much of a chuckle as her paralyzed vocal chords would allow.  
  
"I'm fine," she said in a loud whisper. "I thought it was water and downed the whole glass...but it was vodka." She gratefully gulped down the REAL water as Hayate rapidly translated for Brad, who laughed. "We will teach her how to drink properly, eh?"  
  
Hayate gave him a brittle smile. He had no intention of this bohemian freak of nature "teaching" his younger sister ANYthing. "Come, Kasumi," he said to her. "Let's find something to eat." Taking her by the arm and wiggling his fingers at Brad in farewell, he headed for the door. He had some serious catching up to do with his sister, and needed to find a manual detailing DOATEC's policy on liquor consumption while on campus. 


	6. Tina, Zack, Hitomi, and a bit of Ryu

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Hitomi stood at the edge of DOATEC's parking lot, awed. Bathed in the quickly fading light of early evening, the grounds seemed to her both vast and beautiful. She shielded her eyes, squinting into the distance, then inhaled the fresh scent of spicy, exotic plants and flowers, their buds closing for the night.  
  
"It's amazing, isn't it?" a voice murmured behind her. Hitomi whirled around, startled, only to see Jann Lee's face, hidden partially by the shadows. "Yeah," she replied in a whisper, still under the spell being woven by the incredible place.  
  
"It gets more beautiful with each passing year," he continued. "This is your first time here?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You're young."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Worried?"  
  
"A little." Hitomi saw no point in lying.  
  
He did not smile, but his face wasn't as stern as before- and he looked younger as a result. "You have a lot of passion in you," he said, low. "You're fiery. I can see that already."  
  
Hitomi stared at him, momentarily surprised at his words. From any other guy, those words would have sounded like a blatant come-on, but his quiet sincerity and matter-of-fact tone proved otherwise. "You'll do fine," he said.  
  
Hitomi focused on the floor. "Thank you," she said, touched. He'd been the first person she'd seen that day that seemed to take even a cursory interest in her.  
  
"Women's dorms are in that direction." He pointed to a paved trail leading deep into the grounds. "Do you need help carrying anything? I have two free hands." He indicated a sleek black Jansport on his back, apparently his only luggage.  
  
"No, I've got it. Thank you very much...for everything."  
  
Jann Lee placed his palms up in a don't-worry-about-it gesture and headed in another direction. "See you around!" Hitomi yelled, but he was gone. She sighed, grabbed her bags, and headed for the dorms.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
Tina Armstrong burst back into her room, muscles tingling from the incredible workout she'd had in the gym nearly the moment she'd arrived. Tina loved the DOATEC gyms- their state-of-the-art equipment and personal trainers made her Jenny Craig fitness club look like a kids ballet class. She quickly stripped off her workout clothing down to her sports bra and black briefs.  
  
"I'd better air this place out before my roommate arrives," she muttered, conscious of the sweaty smell she'd brought in with her. "Next time I'll use the gym showers." She walked over to the identical folding doors that led to a challis-covered balcony, throwing them wide open. The cool evening air flowed through them into the room.  
  
"Mmmm," Tina said, enjoying the cool air on her sweaty body. She quickly pulled off her sports bra, gasping a little at the incredible weight of her breasts. She held them, palmed them, and then went back into the room, snatching a bottle of jasmine oil from a hot plate, where it had been warming slowly for over an hour.  
  
Tina poured the warm, scented liquid into her hands, and then began to massage her breasts with it, palming them, kneading them, encircling the soft, pink nipples till they became engorged both from her ministrations and from the cool air.  
  
She lay on the floor of the balcony, and closed her eyes, enjoying the cool, spicy-smelling night air on her hot skin, and her own warm, soothing hands on her breasts. She enjoyed doing this- it felt good, after they'd been restrained by an extremely tight sports bra for most of that afternoon. She made a small sound of pleasure in her throat.  
  
"Mmmm. Want me to rub that in for ya?" a low voice said suggestively.  
  
Tina's heart leapt into her throat. Stifling a scream and leaping to her feet, she immediately took a protective fighting stance, clutching one arm over her chest- not that it did much good. Her impressive bosom still popped out above and below. Staring up and around for the intruder, she caught sight of a pair of legs hung over the balcony directly above. She reached for them, grabbed hold of an ankle and yanked with all her strength. He fell to the concrete floor in a heap.  
  
"Woman, are you crazy? I could have broken my neck!" The man stood to his feet, rubbing the aforementioned limb.  
  
"Zack?!" Tina glared at him in a mixture of relief and fury. "What the hell is wrong with you? Have you ever heard of an invasion of privacy? Jesus Christ, I could sue you till......You pervert! I should..."  
  
Zack, who had been leaning languidly on the balcony railings, interrupted smoothly. "Baby, it's not MY fault that you happened to be feeling yourself up in a public place. The dorms, and therefore the balconies are public property. Besides," and his voice softened; "it's not like I haven't seen them before." He moved closer, his breath warm on her neck.  
  
Tina flushed, then furious at her reaction, stomped into her room, yanking a tight white t-shirt over her head, then looking down and groaning inwardly- the shirt seemed to emphasize her bust rather than cover it. "I give up," she muttered.  
  
Zack flashed her an engaging grin. "C'mon, don't be mad," he said. "I dragged myself all the way over to Japan just to see you, and you treat me like that?"  
  
She gave him an icy look.  
  
"Okay, so I'm broke. I needed some cash." He laughed, leaning on the wall again. "I plan to go to Vegas on vacation after this shit is over."  
  
"Sounds like fun."  
  
"It will be. Hey-" he had a sudden inspiration. "Why don't you come with me? It'll be a blast. Visiting the casinos, strolling along the boardwalks, going to the amusement parks, riding the Zackercoaster..."  
  
"ZACKERCOASTER??!1!" Tina laughed out loud in spite of her irritation, reaching for a pair of jeans and pulling them on. "You still use that stupid-ass name for your......?"  
  
"Yup," Zack cut her off. "The ladies ALL love THAT ride. The rise, the drop, the plunge, the eeeeeeeeeeeee! at the end...." he dropped on her bed, kicking off his Prada loafers and making himself comfortable. "One problem, though. It made the ladies lightheaded."  
  
"If I recall correctly, most of then get off the ride because of nausea."  
  
"If I recall correctly, YOU had a season pass."  
  
Tina opened her mouth, then, unable to come back with a sharp enough retort, gave in to the laughter which had been building up at Zack's smug comments. She had to admit; the guy was good. "You need help. Serious help."  
  
"So, you want to come?" He gave her a hopeful look.  
  
She smirked and pushed him off her bed. "I think you're counting your chickens before they're hatched, buddy."  
  
"What? You KNOW I don't understand your little Texan expressions."  
  
"I mean, you don't even know if you'll win the competition yet."  
  
Zack laughed. "Oh, I will, baby. You can count on that. So...." his voice grew serious. "Really. Come with me. You need it."  
  
For a minute, looking at his long, lean frame stretched out on the carpet, Tina was tempted. Then she shook her head abruptly. There was NO way she was going down THAT road again. "Sorry, Zack."  
  
"Your loss."  
  
There was a short, uncomfortable silence, as Tina quickly turned around and began stuffing clothing in the small chest of drawers. Zack helped himself to a box of saltwater taffy from Tina's bedside and began tossing them in his mouth, piece by piece.  
  
"Umm....excuse me?" Tina whirled around in time to see a short, slender girl, standing in the doorway, luggage around her. "Sorry if I'm interrupting something, but are you Tina Armstrong?"  
  
Thanks to Jann Lee's directions, Hitomi found the women's dorms quickly. Hauling her luggage behind her, she loped down the hall to her room and used her key to open the door. She held it open with her foot and pulled her luggage behind her. Voices were coming from the inner room, so she assumed that her roommate, Tina Armstrong, as the assignment identified her, was already there.  
  
She walked into the room. A tall, stunningly beautiful woman dressed simply in a form fitting white t-shirt and blue jeans was standing up and carefully folding some items of clothing into a small chest of drawers that stood against the far wall, under a window.  
  
She had blond hair, pulled up in a high ponytail that fanned down from her head, and deep blue eyes, framed by darker lashes, and she was having a conversation with a guy sprawled out on the rug. Hitomi hesitated, in the doorway, then gave herself a little shake and moved forward. It WAS her room, after all.  
  
"Ummm.....excuse me, but am I interrupting something?" She asked meekly.  
  
The blonde whirled around, and the guy sat up abruptly. "No! Of course not! I mean, what would I be doing here? It IS my room after all, and...." Seeing Hitomi's confusion, Tina ceased her babbling and held out her hand instead. "I'm Tina. You must be my roommate, Hitomi."  
  
Hitomi nodded and smiled, surprised to find that the obviously American woman spoke perfect, slightly accented Japanese. He eyes drifted to the man, who had stood up and was dusting off his pants. "This is Zack," Tina continued, giving him a hard look. "Another veteran to DOA. He was just leaving; Weren't you, Zack?"  
  
"Um, yeah," Zack managed to gulp down a whole mouthful of taffy without choking, and gave Hitomi a smile. "Nice to meet you, anyway. See you around." He headed for the door.  
  
Zack walked for his dorm room, whistling all the way. He was glad to see Tina again, and damn! She was as hot as ever. Their fling last year hadn't turned into anything solid, and besides a couple of e-mails, they hadn't kept in touch at all, but he hoped they'd get close again, in spite of her obvious brush-off. Oh, well. Even if they didn't, the ladies seemed pretty sweet this year. Tina's roommate had caught his eye- she was pretty young, but you had to be eighteen to enter DOA, so she WAS legal. Hmm.  
  
As he walked, Zack caught sight of a slender, petite Asian girl with her long, black hair held back in a tight French braid. Dressed in jeans and a Bejing University sweatshirt, she looked more like a college student during finals week than a viable contender, but Zack knew her to be otherwise- and he had a long thin scar made by one of her vicious stiletto heels on his left thigh to prove it.  
  
"Yo! Lei Fang!" He yelled after her. "What's up?"  
  
She turned around, hampered partly by the enormous garment bag she was carrying. "Zack. Hello." Her greeting was cool, but polite.  
  
"Need some help?" he asked, indicating the garment bag.  
  
"No." Lei Fang gave him her best snotty look- she didn't like him last year, thought he was annoying, and had no intention of changing her opinion. Then she looked down at the bag- it wasn't heavy, only cumbersome for someone of her size. It would be SO much easier to let Zack carry it...oh, who was she fooling? "Actually, yes. If you can help me carry it up the stairs, I'd appreciate it."  
  
"How much?" he made a silly attempt to look seductive as he took the bag from her.  
  
"Enough not to eliminate you in the first round- If I can manage not to hit you, that is. Get that ridiculous look off your face; you look like a cow."  
  
Put-down administered, she took her bag from him at the door and rewarded him with piece of Chinese candy from her purse. "Thanks," she said, sticking the candy between his teeth. "Bye." She wiped the sugar from her fingers onto her jeans; then she shut the door in his face.  
  
Laughing, Zack headed down the hill again. There was absolutely nothing between himself and Lei Fang- he just loved bugging her- it was SO easy . He walked into the men's dorm and headed for his bedroom. He needed a shower, a shave, and a change of clothes before dinner- he also wanted to take a nap. No use showing up the first day with huge travel circles under his eyes. Then maybe he'd hunt up Brad and they'd go out for food or something. He opened the door to his room.  
  
"Oh, HELL no." he muttered under his breath. "THIS is my roommate?" There was Ryu Hayabrusa, stretched out on the bed, reading a thick novel. He looked up, the shock on Zack's face mirrored by him.  
  
Had to end this here; it was getting to long. More on Ryu and Lei-Fang to come! Keep reading. 


	7. Ryu's problem

Disclaimer: If you don't know my rap on THIS by now, GET. HELP.  
  
Rating: Same.  
  
And, note to all who think the story with Ayane and Helena is a little warped: I have NEVER played DOA 2, 'kay? All my writings are what I've derived form DOA 3. So..if I'm wrong about anything, that's why.  
  
Zack's eyes narrowed marginally as Ryu sat up on the bed, his expression just as grim. "Hello, Ryu."  
  
Ryu gave him a cool nod, and then returned to his book.  
  
Zack shook his head. Still Mr. High-and Mighty, that one. "So," he said, attempting to make friendly conversation, ""Whauddya do with your winnings last year? Vacation? Bought a house?"  
  
Ryu gave him an astonished look, as if shocked at the very thought. "No. I used the money to further my education on in the martial arts."  
  
Okkaaaaaay, Zack thought. "Still, you MUST have had SOME fun. I mean, after that training and all...."  
  
"Fun?" Ryu looked puzzled once again. "Training isn't really fun, although we do get a couple of free days a month- once, we went to this incredible tournament of all Mengen Tushin warriors, and they taught us their philosophies....."  
  
Zack smiled insincerely and continued to hang his clothing, eager to leave the room. This guy was TRULY hopeless. Ryu had already returned to his book. Fifteen minutes later, Zack had finished unpacking. He crossed over to the nightstand phone and quickly dialed Brad's extension. "Yo, Brad!" he said when he picked up. "Wanna go to dinner or something?" he paused. "Okay. Meet you there in ten." He hung up the phone with a click.  
  
Maybe I'll try again....he turned to Ryu. "Hey, do you want to come with Brad and I to the café?" he asked. "Rumor has it they're serving a steak to DIE for tonight."  
  
Ryu barely looked up. "No, thanks. I can only have red meat twice times a week. Besides, I need to study."  
  
Zack shook his head and started for the door. "Later, dude." He couldn't believe he was saddled with this deadweight for the entire tournament.  
  
****************************************  
  
Ryu waited till he was sure that Zack was gone before chucking his book underneath his bed, yanking his shoes on, and heading out the door. His roommate obviously was DYING to be rooming with anyone else, but he didn't care. It wasn't his fault he'd beat Zack in the final competition during last year's tournament.  
  
Ryu paused outside the doorway, watching Zack stride down the hill, surveying him with a critical eye. The American was clearly in top form, muscles rippling even underneath his loose shirt and khakis. He shook his head. The guy would be unstoppable if he would just get serious and concentrate on his fighting.  
  
Zack always seemed to be more concerned with having showy moves rather than effective ones- that had been his downfall last year. Although he'd beat him in the final round, it hadn't come easily- Zack could pack quite a punch. He wasn't about to tell him THAT, though. Zack didn't even like him all that much- and the last thing he need was to have his head swelled.  
  
Ryu adjusted his jacket and headed down for the DOATEC lounge, headquarters for the introductionary speech to be given by Donavan, new head of DOATEC. He pushed open the door of the large, comfy room, pausing when he saw a young woman and man seated together in front of a fire, heads close. They were talking in low tones, and turned abruptly when he cleared his throat.  
  
"Ryu?" the young woman rose in one graceful movement, extending a small hand out.  
  
"Kasumi," Ryu said, smiling as well. "I am glad you are here. Ein told me the whole story." He paused. "You are very courageous for giving your leadership up in order to help your brother."  
  
Kasumi looked down shyly, eyes focused in her feet. "It is no trouble when family is involved." She looked up, focusing on his face. "I'm glad that you don't fault me for running away," she said. "So many don't understand."  
  
Ryu opened his mouth to ask her to elaborate, but was interrupted when he heard a sound. Behind them, Ein cleared his throat. "Ryu," he said in a friendly, if somewhat stilled tone. "I wasn't expecting you at this competition."  
  
Kasumi tactfully glided across the room to the coffee table, and began making conversation with a young, blonde Frenchwoman who had just appeared in the doorway, an icy platinum blonde by her side.  
  
Ryu smiled slightly. "You are surprised? Really, Ein, you shock me. You should have known I would never pass up such an opportunity."  
  
"Even at the cost of a friendship?" Ein's voice still remained tight and controlled.  
  
Ryu's smile disappeared. "What do you mean?"  
  
Ein looked at him steadily. "You mean, you do not know? Ryu, I'm here to avenge myself for what Donavan did to me. Destroying his brainchild, Genra, will be more of a blow to him than loss of life."  
  
Ryu shrugged. "I admire your cause, but I still don't see what that has to do with my being here."  
  
Ein sighed. "You'll only get in my way, Ryu, by making the competition even harder for me. I have to win- you don't understand."  
  
Ryu shook his head in disbelief. "I never thought you could be so self- centered, Ein. I would think you'd be glad if I avenged you by fighting with my best friend in mind- we'd BOTH win, that way. C'mon, man- let's do this together."  
  
Ein shook his head sadly. "I wish I could. But honor demands-"  
  
"Damnit, Ein, screw your stupid-ass honor!" Ryu said, frustrated into using less-than-perfect language. "We're FRIENDS, okay? I've got your back- you've got mine. What happened to that?" He stepped back so as to better look Ein in the eye. "Don't do this to us."  
  
Ein regarded his agitated friend with icy calm. "Do what?" He asked coldly.  
  
"Everything being done to our friendship, you're doing yourself. If you really want to help me, then stay out of the whole thing."  
  
Ryu looked at him, incredulous. "You want me to withdraw?"  
  
"It's your choice. But if you don't, I won't spare you, is that understood? I'm going to win this thing. I have to, and I will- regardless of the consequences."  
  
"Wow." Ryu stared at his best friend, astonished. "That was, cold, Ein, really cold. Whatever they did to you- God. You don't have a soul anymore, you know that?"  
  
Ein looked at Ryu stonily. "My words still stand."  
  
"I'm NOT going to withdraw, Ein. Stop talking crazy, and listen to-"  
  
"Fine." Ein's voice broke through Ryu's statement with affected smoothness. "I'll see you in the ring."  
  
Ryu stared at his friend, seeing for the first time the hardened countenance, the bitter lines surrounding the mouth, the glacial eyes. He stepped back.  
  
"Will you reconsider?" Ein said, low.  
  
Ryu straightened to his full height and looked Ein straight in the eye. If this was how Ein wanted things done- fine. "I'll withdraw when hell freezes over," he said, just as softly. "Bring it on."  
  
Ein looked into his eyes, shook his head, and turned on his heel. "Come, Kasumi," he said, sharply, without a glance back.  
  
Kasumi hesitated, and then followed, shooting Ryu a curious look. Before she exited, he grabbed her arm and looked her in the eye. "You're not his dog, you know," he said, quietly.  
  
She flinched at the bluntness of his words, and then pulled away. "He is my brother." Her voice was barely audible.  
  
Ryu reached out and touched her cheek. "Kasumi-"  
  
"I've got to go," she said, insistently. Without another word, she disappeared from the room.  
  
Will update soon! You'll see Bass and Gen-Fu next chapter, and relationships will develop a lot more. Then we'll get SMOKIN' with the competition! Review, please!! 


	8. Ayane finds out  and a card game

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I'm planning a Donavan-style hostile takeover...  
  
Rating: PG-13. I will warn you if it goes up.  
  
Hitomi sat back against the black leather loveseat in the corner of the DOATEC lounge, watching the activity taking place in the room. Jann- Lee was dozing next to her, as they'd been talking earlier on.  
  
It was late - eleven o'clock, to be exact- and no one seemed ready to leave, with the exception of Ein Hayate, who'd made it an early night, and Ayene, the cold purple-haired girl (to Hitomi's shock, she'd discovered that they were both the same age) who'd claimed a headache and left soon after Ein. The evening had begun with dinner and an address by Donavan, new head of DOATEC.  
  
After his forty-five minute welcoming speech, Donavan had shaken the hands of each one of the competitors, introducing himself to them one by one. Hitomi rubbed her hands on the sides of her jeans, remembering his cold, clammy touch. Although he'd been tall, imposing, and classically handsome, he unnerved her in a way she couldn't explain.  
  
After the speech, the entire group had retired to the DOATEC main lounge for coffee and cake, and now, and hour later, no one was making a move to leave the room.  
  
Hitomi sat back an adjusted her red cowboy hat, appliquéd with a silver Minnie mouse design, back on her head. The hat had been a gift from Tina- she'd brought a number of them all the way from Texas, and immediately made a gift of one to her young roommate.  
  
She was sitting in the center of a large rag rug that covered most of the floor, dealing out cards to Zack, Brad, and a stunning, blonde Frenchwoman introduced as Helena Douglas, talking loudly, sipping a tall glass of spring water, and propping her long, bare legs up onto Zack's lap, all at the same time. Hitomi had to smile. Tina Armstrong had to be the only woman in the world who could look like she was lounging while wearing a black leather micromini.  
  
The game got underway, Zack alternating between flirting with all the women on the rug and attempting to look at their cards. Brad, who was playing opposite Zack as his partner, was cheating as well- but in a much more successful way.  
  
Every time Zack distracted the girls, he'd sneak a look at their cards, and rake in book after book. Hitomi managed to keep her composure, looking away. She looked over at Jann-Lee so she could share the joke, but he was apparently sleeping.  
  
Various other activities were going on in the lounge. Leon and Bayman, the two Russian military men, had set up a chess game in the corner, and were arguing over something- presumably an illegal move- in their rough, guttural language. Lei-Fang, a pretty, delicate-looking girl from China, was sitting at Kasumi's feet, while she read her palms, showing her talent for telling fortunes.  
  
Gen-Fu, a sweet, older man who had told her he was fighting for cash to pay his grandaughter's medical bills, was looking on as well, smoking a pipe- along with a huge, burly American that introduced himself simply as "Bass." He seemed pleasant enough, though his eyes were fixed on Tina in a slightly disconcerting manner.  
  
Christina, or "Christie," a tall, leggy, purple-eyed Brit with shaggy platinum hair, was carving a piece of wood with a sharp army swiss knife. Her unusually-colored eyes, framed dramatically with lashes the same color as her hair, were fixed immovably on Helena. She didn't even seem to notice the wood shavings dropping on her foot, and Helena looked justifiably freaked out, which greatly impaired her effectiveness in the game.  
  
Ryu Hayabusa, winner of last year's tournament and super ninja, was laying flat on his stomach, reading a karate magazine. Hitomi stared at him in fascination. He'd become legendary after winning the DOA competition last year, defeating Bankotsu-bo- his face was plastered all over the many magazines she had stashed in her room back home.  
  
Tall, with a perfectly toned figure, a sharp, alert face adorned with almond-shaped green eyes, a full, sensual mouth, and long, shaggy dark- brown hair that fell in his eyes, he looked every inch the legend he become. He looked up, as if he could feel her staring, and looked directly at her. She turned away, flushing. When she turned back, he had returned to his magazine, and Hitomi felt a familiar stab of fear. She was just a kid. How could she compete with THAT??  
  
*****************************  
  
Ayane walked soundlessly in the darkness of the DOATEC camp, towards the men's dorms, heart pounding.  
  
She had to see him.  
  
Pulling open the huge door, she hurried down the hall, thankful for the silence that pervaded the space. Making her way down to Ein's room, marked by a white computer printout, she squeezed her hand into a fist, hesitating before knocking. Giving herself a little shake, she allowed her fist to connect with the scarred wood of the door, making two raps that echoed throughout the hallway. There was no sign of stirring in the room, and Ayane raised her hand, getting ready to knock again. Then she heard an icy male voice behind her.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
Ayane whirled around, heart pumping, to find her face only inches away from Ein's broad chest. His hair was wet, and he was wrapped loosely in a knee- length white cotton robe, open enough to reveal a tan, muscular skin. His dark, amber eyes looked puzzled, and more than a little displeased.  
  
"I....I..."  
  
"I said, WHAT are you doing here? Can't you talk?"  
  
"I..." why was he being so cold?  
  
"Ayane," he said, tiredly, "If you have nothing to say, then please let me go inside my room."  
  
"Ein, no." she reached out and grabbed his arm, eyes beseeching. He shook it off as if it was a leech. "Ein...I just wanted to talk to you...to see if you're really all right..."  
  
"Like you did after I was kidnapped by Donavan, correct?" his voice hadn't thawed an inch.  
  
"But...I couldn't! I was in shinobi training, and I couldn't leave after Kasumi ran away..."  
  
"She ran away to HELP me!" Ein's voice suddenly acquired all the emotion that had been lacking before.  
  
"No, she didn't. She just used you as an excuse. She's a coward, and..."  
  
"A COWARD?" Ein yanked Ayane close to him, his lips next to her ear, and she sagged against him, weak all of a sudden, but he jerked her to her feet. She stood, feeling dizzy, his hot, sweaty scent overpowering her. He began to speak again, hissing his words into her ear. "My God! Do you call being ordained leader of Mugen Tenshin cowardly!? Do you call running away and KNOWING you'd never live in peace again cowardly? She told me EVERYthing, Ayane. She made the sacrifice- and you didn't want to. I heard about the attempts on her life, too. I wonder who was tipping the assassins off, hmmm?"  
  
Ayane was close to losing control. "Ein, please listen! I never meant to..."  
  
"I know that I haven't seen you in years but I thought I meant more to you than that. After all, we ARE siblings- at least, half of us. Family comes first. And speaking of family..your foster father? Remember him?"  
  
"Genra?" Ayane whispered, feeling faint. "He taught me all I know. But he disappeared months ago.."  
  
"He was kidnapped, like me." Ein's tone was bitter. "Same project, same result. Only I escaped, because I had someone to help me- and he didn't." his voice grew lower- and harsher. "He didn't, because his daughter was too busy becoming a bigshot in Hajin Mon to help him."  
  
"But..."  
  
"He's Donavan's puppet, now." Ein showed no sign that he had heard her. "I had someone to help me, and I escaped. He had no one, and now it is too late for him. Have you NO sense of loyalty?" he paused and looked into her eyes. "What, you didn't hear?"  
  
Ayane stepped back as if she'd been slapped. If Ein was telling the truth, and Genra really was..oh, God. "Ein, I didn't know all this! I only wanted to..."  
  
"You're evil," he said, quietly. "You are also spoiled. And selfish." He released her completely, walked into his room, and slammed the door.  
  
"...find out if you were all right." Ayane sank to the floor and began to cry.  
  
"Oh, God, I messed up," she whimpered. "I REALLY messed up."  
  
***************************************  
  
Back in the lounge, the game of Spades had rounded up, with Brad and Zack declared the winner. They stood up, joined hands, and bowed to all the corners of the room, while the girls protested. "You SO cheated," Tina accused, but she was laughing.  
  
"No, we didn't!" Zack was adamant.  
  
"Are you kidding?! I SAW you! Helena..."  
  
Helena threw her hands up (" Mon Dieu! You Americans are crazy!") and moved out of the line of fire. Brad was trying to pick up the cards with a straight face, but to no avail. Tina moved towards the two of them, ready to pounce, but Helena smoothed things over with the introduction of an English card game called Snap. It was a very easy game which involved all cards being dealt out evenly, and slapped down on the table by each player in order of their sitting positions.  
  
When two consecutive players had the same number (i.e., a five of hearts, then a five of spades) the first player to yell, "snap!" and hit the deck won those cards. Players were dropped if they lost all their cards, and the player who had all the cards in the end was the winner.  
  
Zack, Brad, and Tina immediately joined in, along with Kasumi, Ryu and Lei Fang, who had finished their fortune-telling session. Gen-Fu and Bass declined, but looked on in interest. Zack snatched up the cards and began to deal, then stopped, looking over at Hitomi and Jann Lee. "Yo! Hitomi, girl! Jann-Lee, my man! C'mon over here!"  
  
Jann Lee declined with a slight smile and shake of the head, but Hitomi, bored, decided to join in the game. She got up and went to the kneeling circle on rug, squeezing in between Zack and Brad. Zack quickly shuffled the cards and began to deal them- "watch out for those casino fingers!" muttered Tina- and the game began.  
  
True to Helena's word, the game, though childishly simple, moved incredibly quickly and required incredible reflexes. Zack and Lei Fang proved themselves to be the best early on, however, and their fingers were red from slapping away. By the time the first round was over, Lei Fang the winner by a nanosecond.  
  
Both Kasumi and Ryu begged out of the next match, claiming they had to go to bed, and were soon followed by Gen-Fu, Bayman, Leon, Helena, and Tina, who wanted to get an hour in at the gym before she went to sleep. Zack, Lei- Fang, and Hitomi started another round, the game moving so fast that their hands made a huge, multicolored blur in the center of the rug. Lei-Fang won again.  
  
"I am the CHAMPION!" she cried, jumping in the air, fist clenched, her cheeks and eyes glowing. Both Hitomi and Zack clapped half-heartedly- they hadn't know it was THAT serious- and she took a bow, giggling.  
  
"Yo. I'm beat," Zack said, laying on his back on the rug. Hitomi was inclined to agree, flopping down beside him. It was after midnight, and they had to be thinking of turning in.  
  
"Come on, just one more game!" said Lei-Fang, dropping to her knees and picking up the cards. "Za-ack." She shook his shoulder. "Or," she said insinuatingly, "are you scared I'll beat you again?"  
  
"'C'mon, woman, you done wore me out," Zack mumbled.  
  
"Brad?" She asked, looking around.  
  
He was out cold on the rug.  
  
"I'll take his place," said Jann Lee, rising from his place on the sofa.  
  
Lei Fang looked up, startled. "You?"  
  
"Me." He strolled over, lifted and moved Hitomi's legs to the side, and sat, crossed legged, on the rug. "Deal."  
  
******************** 2 hours and twenty games later *****************************  
  
"God, Jann Lee," mumbled Hitomi. "I've GOT to get to sleep...."  
  
"NO!" Lei Fang was adamant. "We need a third player!"  
  
"Just one more game," Jann Lee said, looking as cool and as calm as he had been when they had begun. He began to deal.  
  
"Oh, MAN," groaned Hitomi. "Zack-"  
  
"I gotcha, babe," he said, half-asleep. He grabbed her under the arms, propping her up against his chest.  
  
"The score is ten games to ten, me and Lei Fang," Jann Lee said coolly. "Let's play."  
  
Hitomi, due to the fact that she was so sleepy she could barely move, dropped out quickly, and Jann Lee and Lei Fang began to play at an even faster pace, their hands moving quickly. Lei Fang was biting her lip, sweating profusely. Jann Lee hadn't even batted an eyelash through the whole ordeal.  
  
"SNAP!" Jann Lee hit the deck containing the last of the cards, his extra- loud proclamation startling Brad, Hitomi and Zack out of a sound sleep. He picked up the cards, a satisfied look on his face.  
  
"Somebody won? Thank God," said Zack, releasing Hitomi and climbing his feet, reaching for her hand to tug her up and prodding Brad in the side with his foot. "You two are nuts." Brad got up, and Jann Lee gave the cards to Hitomi, for Tina. Then they all left the room, yawning and stretching. It was nearly two in the morning. Hitomi realized she had left her jacket in the lounge, so she waved the guys on and walked back, pulling the door open and crossing the room to her sofa. To her surprise, she saw Lei Fang, still kneeling in the middle of the floor.  
  
"Lei Fang?" she asked tentatively, moving close to her. The girl looked a mess. Her previously tightly braided hair now stuck to the damp skin of her face, and her jeans were covered with carpet lint. "Umm...aren't you going to sleep?" she ventured. Then she moved closer. "Are..are you CRYING?" she asked, shocked.  
  
"No!" the pretty Chinese girl looked up, eyes flashing, as she wiped some moisture off her chin. "It's just that...he ALWAYS wins."  
  
Hitomi opened her mouth to say something, but Lei Fang was already on her feet. "Don't EVER tell him about this," she hissed, eyes intense. She leapt to her feet in one graceful movement and headed for the door. "I'm going to sleep."  
  
Hitomi followed her, mouth agape. Talk about competitive!  
  
WilL update soon!!! Please, review! Help me out here!! 


	9. Cooking with Zack and Christie's plan

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.  
  
Rating: Still PG-13.  
  
"Uuunngh!"  
  
Bayman hurled himself off of the floor, clearing the bar set up for him on the opposite side of the gym. He rolled onto the mat below and off onto the floor, springing lightly to his feet, enjoying the intense burning in his muscles, as well as the cooling relief of the sweat pouring down them. The first rule of the military was, the more it hurt, the better it was.  
  
Squaring off on the tip of his toes, he ran forward, circled the gym, and took another flying leap. To his surprise, he felt and saw a second flying form beside him, and a set of slender, powerful fingers circling his throat. His killer instinct taking over, he instantly rolled and pinned the person on the mat. To his surprise, his "attacker" looked up in his face and began to laugh.  
  
"Sergei Rezimov," Christie's full lips were curved into an expression of profound amusement. "I never expected to see you make it out of that stinking hole in Moscow."  
  
Disgusted, Bayman released her. "You," he said, irritably. He had recognized Christie immediately- in their trade, there were few strangers- and remembered their last meeting. "Europe. Four years ago."  
  
She nodded and rolled over, sitting on her haunches and extending a hand. "I was acting as bodyguard and henchman for Michel Derevko, your old client."  
  
Bayman shook it reluctantly. "Your hair was brown, then- that's why I didn't recognize you at first. In spite of your inexperience, you did some fine work there."  
  
Christie ran her hands through her hair. "You speak as though you were ages older than me, Sergei. Or is that still your name?"  
  
"It's just Bayman, now," he said, offering no explanation.  
  
She nodded. "What are you here for?"  
  
Bayman gave her a look, and laughed. "You still haven't learned the first rule of our trade, have you?"  
  
Christie raised her chin. "A well-informed man is a dead man."  
  
"Still holds true."  
  
They sat in silence for a moment; then Bayman spoke again. "Don't watch her too closely," he said, quietly. "It'll make you look suspicious. I was watching you yesterday. Unless it's your intention to psyche her out-"  
  
Christie's face was a total blank. "Whatever are you talking about? Besides, I KNOW what I'm doing, Sergei. I'm not a child."  
  
Bayman grinned and settled back on his heels, sinking into the softness of the mat. "If you say so. I'm thirty-one now, so you're what- twenty-three, twenty-four?" he cocked his head and looked at her carefully. "You've changed a lot. I remember when last I saw you- you were this skinny kid with overgrown muscles and a big mouth. Now-"he let his eyes rake slowly down her face and figure, appreciatively. "And it's Bayman, understand? Don't call me Sergei."  
  
"I've still got the muscles and I've still got the mouth. What gives, SERGEI?" she said, icily. What right did he have to look at her like that? He was beginning to remind her of Donavan.  
  
"Your ability to SHUT that damned mouth once in a while, LOUISA," he said, his voice suddenly cold and calm. He cracked a knuckle. " Or is that still YOUR name?"  
  
"Point well taken. Bayman it is." Christie was brave, but she wasn't stupid. Bayman nodded, got up, and extended his hand towards her; she barely touched his fingers, leaping nimbly to the ground. "C'mon," she said, looking at him with her cold, practiced sneer. "You guessed why I'm here. Now tell me your reason for being here."  
  
Bayman chuckled, the sound rumbling throughout the gym, and jumped down next to her. "Let's just say...it has to do with DOATEC's new head. He and I have some....history together, and I just want to right a few wrongs." He indicated that they walk towards the weights together, which they did.  
  
"The fool wanted me killed, because apparently, in the words of Hitchcock, I was 'the man that knew too much.' The idiot sent this puny teenager to take me out. I quashed him easily;" and Bayman twisted his fist in his palm emphatically to prove his point, then grabbed a free weight and began doing arm curls.  
  
"Amazing." said Christie, grabbing one of her own. "I'm sort of working for him right now, so don't kill him before I get my last payment," she added in a half-joking tone. Donavan was the ass to end all end all asses, but she still felt something for him.....at least, she didn't want him DEAD....  
  
"Really?" Bayman looked at her sideways. "Is it true that he's sleeping with some broad to get her to do his dirty work for him? I heard it from one of his guards, a 'friend' of mine." He gave her a conspirator's wink, but Christie had frozen in her tracks.  
  
"What?"  
  
"He's sleeping with one of his assassins- obviously a newcomer to the game, poor kid. You and I would NEVER do anything so stupid- and I hear she's in this competition, too. I wonder who it is. He plans to have her eliminated later, according to my friend. I wish I knew who it was- I'd probably tip her off. I hate that guy."  
  
Christie's pale skin had taken on an even greater pallor, and she dropped the free weight. "ELIMINATED?" her face seemed to have frozen and her eyes were flashing dangerously.  
  
"I know. Our business isn't what it used to be." Bayman shook his head and leaned forward, pulling his t-shirt over his head and wiping his face with it. "I'm going to shower. Good luck." He headed for the men's quarters.  
  
Christie sat down on the padded floor, squeezing her eyes shut, a dull pain beginning to throb in her abdomen. Bayman's voice was echoing through her head. ' "Stupid.... kid- sleeping with one of his assassins- plans to have her eliminated later-.....eliminated.....eliminated......eliminated."  
  
She felt sick.  
  
Rising to her feet, she bent over the chalk bucket, thinking her nausea was going to manifest itself physically, but she recovered, breathing in the sharp scents of sweat, powder and rubber that pervaded the weight room. She straightened up, her body breaking out into a cold sweat.  
  
"That bastard," she whispered, her eyes filling. She hadn't loved him- she didn't even LIKE him, not really, and he'd dumped her. Still, she'd thought there was enough between them to prevent him from KILLING....oh, God.  
  
Maybe Bayman was lying. But why would he lie? Plus, Bayman didn't care enough to lie. Donavan had had her completely, totally fooled.  
  
"NO one betrays ME," she said through clenched teeth, her stricken expression turning to one of dawning fury. She turned and strode blindly towards the men's quarters, banging the door open. "BAYMAN!"  
  
The aforementioned walked out from the inside of a large communal shower stall, wearing nothing save a pair of blue shower thongs, but Christie hardly noticed. "I want you," she said, voice shaky, "to count me in on anything you plan to do to Donavan."  
  
Bayman's eyes widened. Aside from the fact that she had barged into the men's shower room, caught him stark naked, and was screaming like an insane woman, she had mentioned the name of a vital client aloud- in public. "Woman, are you crazy?" he hissed, looking around furtively.  
  
"I mean it," she said, the tone of her voice decreasing not a bit. "I want in on anything you're doing to him. " She moved closer to him placing a hand on his arm. She was shaking visibly and looked very agitated.  
  
"But....why?" Bayman could see no reason why she'd turn on such a client....unless.....  
  
"Oh, my," he said, realizing. "YOU'RE the broad?"  
  
She didn't answer, but the punishing glare she shot in his direction told all.  
  
Bayman quickly shifted into business mode, lowering his voice and looking around. "Okay. Well, I guess I could take on as a partner-" Christie relaxed visibly. "I'll discuss the terms with you later."  
  
"Why not now?" she demanded. "This place isn't bugged. Trust me on that one. He wants me DEAD, Bayman! I have to strike before he does. You've got to help me. Let's go now!"  
  
"We-ell...." He gestured downward. "I have to...."  
  
Her eyes followed the direction of his hands, and widened slightly. "Oh. Sorry," she muttered, averting her eyes. "I'll leave you to get dressed now."  
  
"That would be lovely."  
  
He saw her to the door, clutching a towel round his waist, then leaned on it, laughing to himself. Christie was bloodthirsty. Completely so.  
  
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned...." he murmured to himself. He didn't know the entire story of whatever had transpired between Donavan and Christie, but it was some bitter stuff- and Bayman had seen before what Christie was capable of. By the time they were done with Donavan, he wouldn't know what hit him.  
  
************************************************  
  
"Hitomi, girl! Hitomi!"  
  
Hitomi whirled around at the sound of her name, walking through the foliage alongside the women's dorms. She looked up in time to see Zack leaning out of the window to her and Tina's room, waving frantically.  
  
"Zack, are you EVER in your rooms?" Hitomi looked up at him irritably. The guy was always in and out of their room, bugging Tina. Hitomi had sarcastically offered him a copy of the key the day before, but he'd turned it down good-naturedly, stating that "when Zack comes to doors, they open on their own accord!"  
  
"There's no time for that now, Hitomi! Help!" he retreated back into the room.  
  
Hitomi sighed in annoyance and headed up the stairs, pausing at the door to pull her key out of her hip pocket. Before she could insert it in the lock, the door flew open, and Zack jerked her inside.  
  
"You've GOT to help me," he said, panicked. Hitomi stared around in horror at what had formerly been her and Tina's clean, neat room. Shopping bags were littered round the room, various food items spilling out of each one, and the room smelled suspiciously like raw fish.  
  
There were four smoking hot plates sitting on the carpet, a dish on each one, and Brad was standing on a chair beside the bathroom, frantically fanning the smoke detector with a newspaper. There was a half-melted bag of ice sitting on the windowsill, (presumably for the fish) and there were chopped vegetables sitting in a wet bowl, also on the carpet.  
  
"Oh. My. God," she said, mouth agape. Zack started toward her, wrapped in huge white apron, a little-boy look of contrition on his face. "C'mon, Hitomi, don't...." he pleaded.  
  
It was a bit too late for THAT. Hitomi launched into an impressive litany of loud, harsh German, and by the looks on Zack and Brad's faces, the point was getting across, though they couldn't understand a word she was saying. She took a deep, calming breath and....flipped on them AGAIN, this time in English, so they could understand every word.  
  
Brad hopped down from his perch when the detector stopped blinking frantically and unplugged the hot plates, glaring at Zack. "Is his fault," Brad accused. "He wants to impress girl, sets room on fire."  
  
Zack returned the look. "Why you -"  
  
"STOP!" Hitomi could take no more. "Sit," she ordered Zack, glaring. He obeyed and sat cross-legged on the carpet. "You, too," she said to Brad who was trying to edge his way toward the door, and he obeyed as well. "Now," she said, almost calmly, "what the hell is going on inside my own room?"  
  
Zack at least had the good taste to look embarrassed. "Well, Tina isn't feeling all that great. See, her father came down for the competition in order to withdraw her. They had a huge fight about it yesterday and she's kind of depressed, so I thought I'd whip her up a little snack to cheer her up. I asked Brad to help me, and...well, things got out of hand. We were hoping to be done and cleaned up by the time she got back from the gym."  
  
Hitomi was confused. "Her father?"  
  
"Yeah, Bass Armstrong. You met him last night."  
  
"Bass is Tina's father?" Hitomi was shocked. Her mind could make no connection between Tina's blonde prettiness and the huge, burly man that had made his appearance the night before. "She must take after her mother."  
  
"Yeah, she does. I'm sorry about the mess- it wasn't such a great idea after all, I guess. Lemme and Brad clean up-" and Zack rose to his feet, looking truly apologetic. "I didn't think, you know? I just had the idea, and ran right over to the store, and back in here. I'm sorry."  
  
Hitomi sighed. Much as she hated to admit it, her anger had dissolved with Zack's explanation. Idiotic as the idea was, it was so.....sweet.  
  
"Fine," she said, disgusted with her own sentimentality. He really is cute, she thought idly. They make a good couple. "I'll help you this once. But stay out of my room after this, okay?"  
  
In the next instant, she felt herself being picked up off the ground and swung around by Zack, who was laughing like a maniac. He raised her over his head, ignoring her screams ("Put me down! PUT ME DOWN!!!") and danced around the room with her before dropping her on the bed. "Okay, let's get started!"  
  
"You see how love makes Americans crazy?" asked Brad disdainfully. He was poking at a smoking dish, a disgusted expression on his face. "What this is?"  
  
Hitomi wiggled out from underneath Zack, shaking her head, and went to inspect the damage. Pinning a large towel to the front of her denim jumpsuit, she shot out rapid-fire directions. "Zack, get me a lid for this pan, and add a little water- I said, a LITTLE! to steam the fish. Why in heaven's name did you have four hot plates on? You'll burn us alive. Oh my GOD, the sink is sticky! What did you SPILL?? On second thought, don't tell me. Brad, get rid of two and use the other one to make rice- yes I said RICE. Any idiot can make it, just follow the instructions on the box-YOU HAVE TO ADD WATER, BRAD! Zack, dump those vegetables in, and I'll add a bit of salt. Good. Now why don't you take that rag, and....."  
  
Thirty minutes later, the room was in perfect condition, and a simple meal of fish, vegetables, rice and fried bread stood on the desktop. Zack surveyed it with satisfaction. "Perfect," he said. "Now all I need is-"  
  
"Got it," Brad pulled a bottle of merlot from his knapsack.  
  
"Brad, you're a lifesaver, man. Now, only if I had-"  
  
"Have them too." Brad pulled two flute glasses from his pack and laid them on the table. "What is problem?" he said in response to Hitomi's open- mouthed stare. "I like having light drink after mealtimes."  
  
Hitomi snapped her mouth shut. No point in asking about THAT. "Okay. C'mon, Brad, let's go," she turned in time to see Brad give Zack an obnoxious wink and thumbs-up sign. "I'll PRETEND I didn't see that. Zack, please be outta here by dinnertime- and whatever you do, don't do it on MY bed, 'kay?" she swept out with Brad behind her, laughing.  
  
Zack took off his apron and arranged himself in a seat, waiting for Tina to come back.  
  
************************************  
  
Helena was stretched out on her bed, murmuring in French to her fiancé in Paris, Michel, when her roommate, Christie, walked in. The tall Brit walked quickly into the room, motioning frantically for Helena to get off the phone.  
  
Startled, Helena obeyed the motion. "Au revior, ami. There's a little emergency here, apparently-" and she hung up.  
  
"What on earth-?" she asked, sitting up on her bed. Christie joined her, violet eyes glittering strangely.  
  
"I need to talk to you."  
  
Helena sat up and folded her hands in her lap, startled by her normally icy roommate's urgent tone. "Very well. What about?"  
  
Christie sighed and raked back her hair. "There's supposed to be an attempt made on your life," she said tightly. "I can't tell you how I know about all this, but Donavan was the one directly responsible for the ordering of your mother's death."  
  
Helena's normally sun-kissed complexion took on a deathly pallor. "My..mother..Donavan?" she croaked.  
  
Christie nodded, her face not giving away a thing. "You came here to fight to find out more about his part in your mother and father's death, as well as your father's loss of DOATEC, yes?"  
  
Helena didn't answer, but the expression on her face pretty much told the whole story.  
  
"Don't bother answering, I know everything." Christie bent over to look into Helena's eyes. "I can't tell you more than this, but- Donavan's empire is coming down. I need your help."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Christie sighed. "You don't have to believe this, but I have my own scores to settle with him, and his days are numbered. I can give you the answers you're looking for, Helena. If you want to know more, you're going to have to help me."  
  
When Helena did not answer, Christie's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You realize," she said, softly, "you cannot get away with the information I just gave you."  
  
Helena paused for a moment, seizing up the other girl's face, which seemed impassive, and had a cold, steely interior to match her thinly veiled threat. She sighed- once again, it looked like she had no choice but to get involved in her father's business.  
  
"What do I have to do?" she asked.  
  
Christie smiled.  
  
**************************************  
  
Had to end this here; it was getting too long. My sincere apologies at my lack of quickness in updating this; there was a family emergency in my house, which thank goodness is over. The actual fights will start in the next chapter, as well as more on Zack and Tina, Tina and Bass, Bayman and Christie, and the other conflicts. I'll update soon. Review...PLEASE!!!!!!! 


	10. Christie's plan: Phase one, and Jann Lee...

**Disclaimer**: I still do not own this.

**Rating: Some of this chapter might get a bit R-ish, for language, violence and sex. I'll try to keep it short and simple**. **Don't like, don't read**.  **Don't recommend it for those below seventeen, although I try not to get TOO graphic.** **You have been warned.**

"Are you _sure_ you still want to do this?"

Christie turned from the full-length mirror on the wall and gave her roommate an irritated look, adjusting the strap of her black satin camisole as she did so. Helena was sitting on the bed, her face pale and drawn. She looked as nervous as Christie felt.

"Of course I do. Don't be a fool," Christie snapped, close to losing control. She, Bayman, and Helena were moving into phase one of their takeover plan of Donavan, and it would be carried out tonight. Although she was nervous, she would rather _die_ than admit it. "Come and help me zip up these pants."

Helena silently got up from her perch, walking over to Christie, who lay on the floor and began to ease a very tight pair of flared jeans up her thighs. With the help of the other woman, she soon had them on and stood to her feet, yanking on a pair of black stilettos as she did so. She gave Helena a short nod of thanks, already feeling the seams cut into her legs. "Bayman will be here soon."

Helena nodded in acknowledgement and sat on the bed again, crossing and uncrossing her legs nervously.

Christie ignored her. She was going over their plans for the evening in her head.

While talking about possible revenge plans with Bayman and Helena, many discussions had come up. Christie's suggestion had been to kill the bastard and get it over with, but Bayman and Helena had disregarded THAT plan, saying that it was WAY to obvious- with too much of a risk of getting caught- Donavan's security force was rivaled only by the president's. Helena had timidly suggested that they turn him in to the authorities.

Bayman and Christie had laughed at THAT thought, openly. "Do you know what we _do _for a living?!?" Bayman had asked her, amused.

Bayman had finally come up with the master plan.

"How I see it," he said, leaning in to his female companions, "is that a man like Donavan has to have some enemies. What we need to do is find proof that he was behind killing your parents-" he nodded at Helena- "and taking over DOATEC. Then we sell the information, and _voila_!" He smiled, a frightening grimace. "His enemies will take care of him."

The plan seemed foolproof. But first- they had to find proof of his evil acts.

And they had to find Donavan's enemies.

And….they were beginning tonight.

                                    *****************************************************

"Tina! Have you seen my belt?"

"Which one, girl?"

"The black one, the one I wear with my _gi__._" Hitomi emerged from the bathroom, already dressed in the two-piece karate uniform, the tunic loose and flowing. "I thought I left it on the bathroom."

"It could be anywhere, the way this room looks," muttered Tina, glancing at the overflowing closet. "Maybe under the bed?" she knelt to look. "What are you getting all dressed up for, anyway?"

"I've got to spar with Jann-Lee this afternoon," Hitomi said in a more agitated fashion than usual. "And I can't find it!"

"Wha- OUCH!" In her shock at Hitomi's statement, Tina straightened up, slamming her head under the bedstead. "Damn!" she pulled out, rubbing her head, then looked up at Hitomi, grinning wickedly. "_What_ did you say? That you were sparring today with Jann _Lee_?" 

Confused, Hitomi stared at Tina. "Yeah. He asked me to meet him for a session in the gym, and then lunch afterwards. We did the same thing yesterday."

"You _did?"_ Ignoring the pain in her head, Tina took the traditional American response and went for the gossip. "So. What's going on between you two?"

"Nothing!" Hitomi said. "We _are_ tag team partners, after all."

"_I_ was his tag team partner last year, and I don't remember getting that same treatment." Tina gave her roommate the eye. "I think he likes you."

"He does not!" Hitomi, who had protested a little _too_ loudly, was vexed to find herself flushing. "He's just…..helping me out. That's all."

"Riiggghhhttt." Tina was clearly unconvinced. "Here's your belt." She pulled it out from underneath the bedside table and handed it to her roommate with another insinuating smile.

Hitomi was desperate for a change in conversation. "So," she said, "Where's Zack?"

Tina rolled her eyes, but she couldn't keep the smile off her face. "Who knows where he is, the dumbass? He grates on my nerves."

Now it was Hitomi's turn to smirk. "Whatever." Ever since Zack's impromptu dinner, the two had practically been joined at the hip. "Where's he taking you tonight?"

"Dinner- and then racecar driving in Tokyo." Tina's smile had become a full-fledged grin. "I love drag racing."

"Hope the guy doesn't kill himself trying to impress you," Hitomi said, dryly.

"Would that be such a huge loss?"

Hitomi gasped in mock shock.  "What a thing to say about your boyfriend!"

Tina laughed. "Get dressed and get out. Also- can I borrow your key? I might be late coming back, 'cause Zack and I –"

"Just take the key," Hitomi said, handing Tina the card and covering her ears. "I really don't want to hear whatever nasty things you two are going to do tonight. Don't want that picture in my brain."

"Why? 'Cause you and Jann Lee….."

"I'm LEAVING!" Hitomi ran for the door, slamming it. Even when halfway down the hall, she could still hear her roommate, laughing like a manic, and she rolled her eyes, grinning. She and Tina were becoming tighter every day, though the girl was crazy. She and Zack were the perfect match. 

It didn't take long for Hitomi to reach the gym, and she opened the door, peering cautiously inside. It was empty, save for Gen-Fu, who sat cross-legged in a corner on a mat, smoking a pipe, his eyes shut tightly in what appeared to be some type of intense meditation. When he heard the intrusion, he opened his eyes and looked sharply in her direction. She bowed slightly, in an attempt to be respectful, and he nodded at her and stood, the spicy-smelling smoke from his pipe curling around his head. "How are you, child?"

"Fine, sir." Her voice was low, and she kept her eyes on the ground when she spoke to him, as befit a man of his age.

 "You are preparing for the exhibition match tomorrow?"

"Yes," Hitomi replied meekly. "My tag team partner will be arriving soon."

"You're a brave child. You'll do well." With a nod, he left the room.

Hitomi slammed her fist into the padded wall in frustration. "_You're a brave child. You'll do well."_ That's _all_ she'd been hearing since she'd arrived. _"You've got guts, kid," _Tina had told her. _"How old are you, anyway?" _Zack had asked her on the first night. And the worst came from the ever-cynical Ayane- "_My, the quality of this competition certainly is decreasing-" _and she'd let her eyes flicker over Hitomi. That was all._ Why can't these people see me as a viable contender? After all, Ayane IS only about a year older, and everyone respects HER. Why can't-"_

"Hitomi?" 

Startled at the voice, Hitomi whirled around, shaking her head to clear the thoughts. Jann-Lee was standing there, dressed only in a pair of loose black pants with a dragon embroidered on the left leg, and a pair of black Addidas. 

 "Jann Lee," she greeted him formally. "I suppose we should begin." She sat on the mat and reached for her left foot, beginning to stretch. Jann-Lee, however, didn't move.

"I can read your thoughts."

Startled, she looked up at him. "What?" 

He sighed. "Come here." He extended his hand.

Hitomi reached up and took it wordlessly. His grip was strong and sure. He pulled her to her feet and led her over to a full-length mirror that stood towards the back of the gym. Placing his hands firmly on her shoulders, he turned her round to face the glass. "Look into the mirror," he said, low, "and tell me what you see."

Hitomi stared into the glass, wondering how this was going to help her in the least. "I see….. me," she said, blanky.

"Keep looking." Jann-Lee's voice allowed no argument, and the pressure he was laying on her shoulders didn't lessen.  "I want you to see _yourself, _not just your reflection._"_

Hitomi inhaled and took another look at her reflection. She saw a _young_ woman- not a girl, but not yet a woman. Short, with what people might call a "sweet" face. Shoulder-length, sandy-colored hair, with darker streaks. Creamy skin. Almond-shaped blue-grey eyes, a testimony to both her German and Japanese heritages. Rosebud lips. Slightly rounded cheeks.

Her body was lean, muscular. Full, firm breasts, though not as large as she'd like. Flat, lean, stomach and thighs. Slim, boyish hips- another testimony to the fact that she was only eighteen. Lean, muscular legs, surprisingly long for one of her height. She _looked _like a contender, at least bodywise…..

That's when she saw her eyes, _really_ saw them.

They looked uncertain, cautious, even scared, and were wide-open with anxiety. They weren't the eyes of a steeled competitor at all. She compared them to the eyes of the young man still holding her in the mirror. His were cool, calm, and nearly emotionless. He shifted when he saw her looking at him.

"Now you see," he said softly, releasing her. His breath was warm on her neck, but she barely noticed, still fascinated by her discovery in the mirror. "We can begin."

Gently propelling her away from the mirror, Jann-Lee led her to the mat and took a fighting stance. "Show me what you've got."

_What the hell, I've got nothing to lose. _Hitomi leaped across the mat, twisting and landing in a traditional karate fighting stance. Jann-Lee began to advance, and she lifted her hands in anticipation of a block.

She didn't know quite how it happened, but she found herself lying flat on her back, Jann Lee over her. "First rule," he said, "Always be on the offensive. Attack to win."

She nodded and got to her feet, trying to hide a wince.

"Watch your opponent. Predict his moves," Jann-Lee continued as they circled each other, beginning to spar. "Fighting is like a dance. One misstep, and-"

Hitomi found herself on the floor once more, _this_ time with Jann-Lee's knee squarely in the middle of her chest. 

"-you find yourself on the floor."

Hitomi gave him a look and squirmed, trying to get up, but he didn't release her. "You've got to let your body just do it," he said. "You've got the skills. I can see that. Think about your moves, but trust your body and your muscles to carry them out. Don't try so hard."

Hitomi didn't care. She just wanted back up on her feet.   
Jann-Lee released her, then stood back. "Remember what I said," he told her. "It's from inside you."

"Right," muttered Hitomi, staring at her contender. She lifted her chin and steeled herself, like a coil ready to spring. Then she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, let her mind go blank, and let herself _go_.  
Jann-Lee actually seemed surprised at the fierocity of her attack, but he didn't loose his cool. He sidestepped her punch combination and lifted one leg to down her in a smooth-as-silk high kick, but Hitomi had anticipated his move. She ducked and countered, twisting her body in a counter-clockwise direction and returning with a kick of her own, one that actually landed. Jann-Lee was much stronger than she, but slightly slower due to her smaller size, and she used this to her advantage, ducking most of his hits and returning them with karate chops of her own.

Jann Lee leaped up, spinning around with incredible speed, bringing his leg around to slam into the side of her head "Stop trying to hit me and hit me!" 

"What is this, the bloody _Matrix_?" Hitomi fell to the ground, rolling over and leaping to her feet- just in time to be broadsided across the face by a well-placed fist. Ignoring the ringing in her head, Hitomi grabbed the aforementioned fist and spun her contender around, slamming him to the ground with a force that made it impossible for him to counter. She then grabbed him by the hair, WWE style, and slammed her own fist into the side of his face.

Jann-Lee pulled away from her, signaling her to stop. "Very good," he said approvingly, rubbing his jaw. "That is not karate, though."

"Learned that move from Tina," Hitomi admitted sheepishly, rubbing her knuckles. Jann Lee actually almost smiled. 

"We do it again."

The two continued to work. Jann-Lee taught Hitomi to use her small size as an advantage, and land karate combinations too complicated for the larger and slower contenders to do in the same amount of time. He also began to teach her a simplified version of his devastating high-kick, and in return she taught him a couple of basic karate blocks, and also how to use falling to his advantage- ("you stay on the floor too long after you get hit," she mentioned, and he agreed). The two worked non-stop, till Jann-Lee ended the fight, allowing Hitomi to pin him. "We need to go."

Hitomi looked up at the clock in shock. It was true; the two had been working for over three hours, and her body realized it all at once. All of a sudden, her legs felt weak, rubbery and sore, and her arms seemed impossible to lift. She got to her feet and sagged against the wall. "God, I'm tired." She looked at Jann-Lee. He looked calm and rested, as usual, but sweat was running down his face, chest and arms. Hitomi lifted a hand to her hair. It was soaked. 

She pulled off the top of her _gi__, _and the black tank top she wore underneath was damp with sweat, sticking to her body. Jann-Lee was wiping the sweat off his face and chest with a towel.

"Yuck," she said, holding the tunic with the very tips of her fingers. "I need a shower. And I'm starving."

"I could use some refreshment as well," Jann-Lee admitted, tossing the towel into a corner. "Let's meet for and early dinner in an hour. We need to talk about some strategies for tomorrow. My room."

Hitomi nodded in assertion and headed for the showers.

                                                                                                *********************************************

"Are we ready?" Bayman asked for the fifth time.

Christie shot the man walking beside her an amused look. "You sound nervous."

"Don't be a fool." He turned and looked over his shoulder, where Helena was following them. Her face was pale, and she was quiet. "You're not going to _faint_ on me now, are you, girl?" he asked sharply.

She looked up and shook her head.

"We're almost there." Donavan's on-campus home was just in front of them, and a soft light glowed from rooms on the inside. "He's home," Christie said, tensely. "Those are his bedroom lights."

"You seem quite _familia_r with the layout of the place," Bayman answered with a comment that could have been taken lightly, were it not hinged with a slightly malicious undercut.

Christie ignored the barb and dropped her duffel bag on the ground. "Hide here in the woods until I give my signal," she said, icily. "When you're done with your business-"

"We'll signal you on your pager," Bayman finished. "And you're on your _own_ to get out." The words hung in the air for a moment.

Without a word, Christie ran her hands through her hair, adjusted her camisole, and headed for the house, leaving Bayman and Helena behind her in the woods.

"Good luck," she threw behind her, without looking back.

"Same to you," said Helena, softly. It had been the first words she'd spoken that evening. 

Bayman and Helena watched as Christie disappeared around the house; then Bayman sat back, allowing himself to relax, ever so slightly. "We've got a bit of time," he said to Helena, who was standing beside him, shivering slightly. "Try to relax."

Relax, indeed, thought Helena, with a burst of sarcasm quite unusual for her. Relax, while sitting in the dark woods with a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound assassin who is most definitely packing heat. _Mon Deiu_. She shivered again, glancing up at Bayman, who was fiddling with some equipment. "You remember the plan, right?"

Helena nodded. How could she not, when she'd been drilled on it over and over again? Christie had revealed that Donavan had a study in his home where there might be incriminating evidence against him, and they had to break in and see if this was true. According to Christie, however, Donavan's home was wired with a security system so advanced that even a woman of her …field…..found it impossible to break in without creating a major breach. 

It had been Bayman who came up with the master plan.

Donavan, though incredibly careful about who entered and left his home, hired a group of Swedish-based immigrants that were in charge of cleaning and fixing his computer drives and software. Christie had provided the name of the company, Tech Intel, and through some old-fashioned scrounging about, had found out when Donavan was due for his next upgrade. Helena and Bayman were now under the aliases of Freya Ebbe and Garth Burr, two of Tech Intel's highest-ranking software engineers, and had Donavan's security chips in their I.D cards to prove it, thanks to a shady dealer in Tokyo. Bayman had even thought far enough ahead to have all Tech Intel calls forwarded to the cell phone of one of his "associates."

While Christie was……distracting…….Donavan, "Freya" and "Garth" would move in and ransack his office.

What had happened to the _rea_l Freya and Garth? Helena was afraid to ask. She glanced up at her companion, real fear churning her stomach. He was casually rolling down the sleeve of his dark blue Tech Intel jacket, making sure the blonde wig on his head was fastened firmly in place. The wig and his blue contacts made him seem younger somehow, and less threatening, but nothing could disguise the steely line of determination in his jaw, nor the muscles that were visible even under the loose windbreaker. Helena glanced down at herself. She wore the same jacket, and was dressed in basic techie-geek form- khakis, a button-down shirt and schoolmarm glasses, her name tag dangling form a cord round her neck. Her hair was tucked under a baseball cap.

She sighed. God. This was illegal, and wrong….but she had little choice. She knew that Christie's thinly veiled threat was completely active…..and dangerous. She supposed it was for her parents, but….Bayman glanced over at her, his eyes flickering over her slowly. 

"You've got-" and he reached over and touched her face. Helena flinched and jumped backwards, her eyes wide, heart hammering. Bayman's lips curled up into a smirk.

"Don't look so scared, girl. You had some dirt on your face. You packing heat?"

It took Helena a few seconds to realize what he meant. She shook her head. The very though of being armed scared the hell out of her.

"Look, girl, I know you can fight, but-"

"_Don't_ call me 'girl'." The venom with which Helena spat out that comment surprised even her, but her fear was slowly changing to irritation. How _dare_ they put her in this situation?

Bayman raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. "My apologizes," he said so tonelessly that Helena couldn't tell whether he was mocking her or not. "As I was _saying_, I know you are quite a fighter, but you need a weapon, just in case something happens." He pulled a small pistol out of his bag, along with a holster of sorts. To Helena's unschooled eyes, it looked like a .45, but smaller. _Really_ professional hardware. She backed away from it, anger forgotten. "No. I've never touched a weapon in my life. I wouldn't even know how to shoot it."

"It's easy, and trust me- you'd be surprised how good your aim is in an emergency-" and Bayman chuckled at his own joke. "Look here. You turn the safety off here, and here's the trigger." 

I _told_ you, I'm not-"

"I'm afraid I must insist." All the good-nature went out of Bayman's tone, and all of a sudden, she felt his large, callused hands under her shirt, against her bare skin. "What are you-" she struggled, outraged going for his groin.

Bayman merely wrapped a leg around her, holding her down, then fastened the holster around her, attaching the gun to it. "There." He said, releasing it. He let his hands slide slowly down her sides. They were rough and warm.

Helena kneed him in the groin, then struggled to get the holster off. "You ungrateful little bitch," Bayman's voice was icy as he doubled over, but he recovered quickly. "Take that off and I'll kill you." 

Helena looked at him, saw he was serious, and stopped. The metal of the gun was cool on her skin, but to her surprise, the loose jacket made it look like she had nothing underneath. 

"And," Bayman continued coolly, "I've got enough ammo in this bag to turn you into a couple hundred lead pencils. Don't piss me off."

Helena sucked in a deep breath, then nodded. The blood was still pounding in her ears.

"And now," said Bayman, "We wait."

                                                                        *******************************************

Christie sat in the sitting room of Donavan's main bedroom, her head pounding.

Or maybe it was her heart. Anyhow, she didn't feel so good.

 She glanced at her reflection in the opposite mirror. If the butler's reaction when he had let her in was any reaction, everything would go exactly to plan. "Slut," she had heard one of the maids whisper as she passed.

Well, that _was_ the idea.

 She wore almost no makeup, save for her eyes, which were outlined in a heavy shade of black, making her eyes almost violently purple. The only remaining makeup was a sheer violet lip gloss that made her lips look invitingly full and lush.

She'd taken it from Helena's room. Who knew the girl would wear such a color? 

Well, she _was_ French.

Christie stood, too nervous to sit, and glanced at herself once more. She was dressed in a translucent black camisole, one about a size too small for her, especially in the chest. She was braless underneath, not a good idea for _he_r on _any_ day, (particularly one so cold) and her breasts clearly…..needed a bit more fabric to work with. Her jeans were tight, emphasizing her curves, and the stilettos she wore jutted both her hips and her chest forward when she walked, whether she wanted them to or not. 

Donavan entered the room.

She inhaled sharply. It was showtime.

He was dressed in a loose Moroocan-style robe, open at the chest, and he moved smoothly across the carpet, sitting down, indicating for Christie to sit.  He took a sip from the vodka glass he was carrying, the ice tinkling against the sides. There was silence for a minute.

"We did not part well," he said, low.

"Indeed." Christie kept her voice low and husky, disguising the disgust and hatred in her voice with perfect accuracy. 

"Come here."

Christie rose and walked across the carpet, stopping directly in front of him, her full, heavy breasts level with his eyes. He didn't even bothe_r_ disguising the fact that he was staring at her. He reached in his robe, pulling out a wad of money. "Your second payment," he said, low. "The girl is being watched?"

"That's what you're paying me for, aren't you?" _Watch out, Christie_. She chided herself. _Don't piss him off_. 

Donavan chuckled, running his fingers through her hair. "I always admired your directness." He took her chin and pulled her face down, kissing her slowly, fully. 

Christie closed her eyes and steeled herself as his tongue worked its way through her lips, struggling against the ache that was beginning in her lower abdomen. This was the plan, but….she didn't _want_ to want this. However, her hands crept to his hair of their own volition.

Donavan released her and took the wad of money, pushing it down the front of her camisole, pacing it between her breasts, then grabbing one with his hand, pushing it upward in one gentle motion. "No….." Christie mumbled, feeling tears coming to her eyes, to her horror. This man planned to _kill _her. So why did she _still_ want to fuck him into oblivion? She was a fucking a_ssassin_, for God's sake. She wasn't supposed to feel anything for _any_ man, regardless of what they may have had in the past.  What was WRONG with her?

Donavan had pushed up the camisole and was now fondling her breasts, encircling them with both hands, teasing her nipples into hardness, then biting the points with a sudden viciousness that made her want to scream- but not in pain. She choked down a groan, but couldn't control the sudden, violent upward thrust of her hips. _I've got to get….back in control……_

Lurching to her feet, she stood up unsteadily, nearly losing her balance in her heels, her top still pushed up above her breasts. She caught sight of herself in the glass, and her reflection shocked her. Her lip gloss was smeared all over her face, as was her eye makeup, and her breasts looked swollen bellow the band of black fabric, her nipples jutting out, full and red. The wad of money had split, and now bills lay scattered beside her feet.

Whore. The thought came to her mind, unbidden.

She shook it off, regaining control in a matter of seconds. She had a job to do, and she planned to do it well. She smiled, a cool, emotionless, professional smile. She pulled off her top completely and tossed it on the floor.

She unbuttoned her jeans, revealing the top of the black leather thong she wore underneath, and eased them down her thighs, stepping out of them, trying to ignore the heat between her legs.

She turned and walked into Donavan's bedroom, hearing his step behind her, knowing what was coming. She walked over to the window and pulled down the heavy shade, then turned. Donavan was standing there, completely naked- and very aroused.

She smiled, took his fingers, and slid them into her thong. 

_Hurry up, Bayman._

                                                **********************************************************************

"There's our signal. Let's go." 

Bayman had seen the silhouette of a naked woman slowly walk over and pull down Donavan's shade. He saw Helena staring up at it in horror. "She's not actually-"

"What did you think, she was selling him Girl Scout cookies?" Bayman shook his head and headed for the house, Helena close after him. They reached the house, were scanned through a security checkpoint by a dubious-looking guard, and after he had called Tech Intel, opened Donavan's study. The place was spotless, decorated with minimalist furniture and several computers- two PC's and six laptops- decorating the desks. Bayman pulled on a pair of gloves and busied himself downloading all eight hard drives into his portable PC, while Helena rummaged through various file cabinets and desk drawers.

"Make a copy of every document you see," he said to Helena, who was snapping pictures of them with a tiny camera. "We haven't got much time." She nodded and quickened her efforts.

"Jesus, what kind of a freak _is_ this dude?" growled Bayman. "He's got nothing but porn on his hard drives!"

"All he has here are blueprints and layout descriptions of DOATEC," reported Helena from her cabinet. "_And_ old Christmas cards."

Bayman rolled his eyes. "He'd better not be hiding the incriminating shit somewhere else," he said. "After we went to all this trouble-" he looked harder. But his search proved futile. There was nothing on the hard drives save for the aforementioned porn, drafts of business e-mails and letters, and a couple of invitations to a club in town. He downloaded it anyway. Maybe Christie would have some ideas.

"Helena, we'd better go. There's obviously nothing here, and-"

"Bayman?" this came from under the desk.

"What? And _wha_t the hell are you doing down there?"

"I found something."

Will update soon- I'm back on the story, sorry for the delay!!!! Please, REVIEW!!!!  
  



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